Attack
by GreenPearl Atlantic Aries
Summary: Canada has an anxiety attack. T WARNING FOR ANXIETY, AND POSSIBLY DEPRESSION AND SELF-HARM


**A/N: Just a short one-shot. T-Warning for anxiety, depression, and self-harm.**

Canada stormed into his house, slammed the door behind him, and locked it tight.

 _Why did America always have to act so absurdly about everything? Was_ nothing _sacred?_

Just the other day, Canada had gone on a romantic date to the park with Prussia. The Canadian had been trying to build up his courage enough to ask the Prussian out on a date for the better part of two months, and finally (with the assistance of a little beer at Germany's party) had been able to do it. It was everything the young man could have ever wanted: the weather was perfect, the birds were singing and the colors were vibrant. He didn't know who saw them, but obviously someone did, because the next day, that was all America could seem to talk about. To _everyone_.

At the world meeting the next day, every nation's attention seemed to be centered around Canada. Every laugh, whisper, gesture, noise, thought was centered around him and he knew it.

 _Thud, thud, thud, thud._

He felt a pressure growing in his chest as his heart started to beat faster. And was the room getting warmer? There was no way of knowing for sure since he felt hot and cold at the same time. His sweat suggested it was warm, and his shaking said it was cold, but then again it could just be a seizure or sugar or caffineoraheartattackortheworldendingorthesunexploding.

 _Thudthudthudthudthudthudthud._

Just breath, all he had to do was breath. There was no questioning what this was, but knowing what it was was even more frightening. He hadn't had an attack since he was a colony and had to ask England for his independence.

Why? Why was his throat feeling like it was closing? Why was his heart pounding? WHY were people talking about him?! Why? Why? Why? Why? _Why? WHY?!_ He couldn't do it, he couldn't stay here, no, not for another minute.

Before he could stop himself, he was out the door. Even though the speaker (it sounded like Italy) continued to speak as he left, he felt someone's eyes follow his distressed body out of the room. The ride home was a blur, he couldn't even remember entering and exiting his car, but somehow he showed up at his doorstep. He ran to the bathroom and locked himself inside, leaned back against the wooden door, and sank to the cold tiles beneath his feet. With every breath he took, his breathing became more and more labored, and the air he took in felt so thin that he could barely see straight. He rested his head on his knees and wove his fingers through his sandy hair, trying to keep his head from exploding.

 _Thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud._

Was he having a heart attack?! His left hand clutched his left breast so tightly that his shirt almost tore. Hot, burning tears cascaded down his cheeks, some tears never left his skin and continued down his neck and into his shirt, while others fell from his smooth skin and onto his jeans. The young man counted every tear that landed on his pants before his vision blurred and he had blacked out…

Canada's body felt so light and his mind was at peace… Was he dead? The world around him was a beautiful azure, and floating by him were fluffy white clouds, a gentle breeze causing them to change shapes right before his eyes. He must be dead, there was no explanation for this. Feathers rose up from the clouds beneath his bare feet like mosquitos rising from the grass at twilight. The tiny feathers gleamed like chrome against the golden rays of the sun, making them look as though they were metal. What kind of bird could this have come from? A kick of the wind took the feather away from the blonde, leading his attention to another man standing a good twenty yards away. Canada couldn't make out who it was from this far away, but they looked familiar. In the radiant light, the stranger glowed like an angel.

"W-who are you…?" He whispered softly, not expecting the angelic creature to hear him. As his words left his lips, the breeze halted and the feathers fell like lead. He closed his eyes, maybe if he didn't look then he wouldn't get him by the onslaught of heavy feathers. He heard a tiny whoosh, encouraging him to open his eyes, and when he did, he nearly had a heart attack. Standing in front of him was the angel.

"A-America?! W-what?!"

"Canada, _wake up_."

"What are you talking about? I can't wake up, I'm not alive."

"Come one! Wake up!" It looked as though America wasn't listening to a word that Canada was saying, not that this would be the first time. A sharp pain rushed through his cheek and his body spasmed before he was brought back to life in a kaleidoscope of colors and emotions.

The Canadian's eyelids were heavy and swollen, and a piercing pain shot through his right cheek, it probably wasn't going to look too pretty. His front side felt like it was smoldering while his back side felt…wet? As his mind registered the wet feeling, Canada's eyes shot open, revealing an unusual scene. He was laying on his back, staring up at the star-blanketed sky, and as he took in a deep breath, the only thing he could smell was dewy grass and burgers.

Woah woah woah. Burgers? As he finally realized what the smell meant, America's hands were on his shoulders.

"Canada?! Oh, God, you're awake!" The American took his twin in his arms and stroked his hair. "I was so worried about you! I noticed you had left and I got really scared because you never leave early." He stopped talking when he noticed the perplexed expression on Canada's face, clearly trying to comprehend everything that had happened.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU BRING ME BACK TO LIFE?!" Canada yelled as reality finally hit him.

"Canada," American whispered soothingly. "you were never dead, you were unconscious."

"No no no, I was definitely dead, I was on a cloud and there were feathers everywhere…"

"Canada." America said more sternly. "You were unconscious. When I came by to see if you were okay, I found you out cold on your bathroom floor, I'm pretty sure you had hit your head on the counter." Now that America said it, Canada remembered what had happened, and all of the aches and pains in his body finally caught up to his racing mind. His head pounded and his lungs ached with every inhale he took.

"Canada, what happened?" As Canada thought about the attack, he noticed that it wasn't bringing him stress anymore, it must have run its course.

"I-I just had an anxiety attack." He said softly. "Everyone at the meeting talking about me must have triggered it." America was quiet, completely dumbfounded.

"No one was talking about you at the meeting. What made you think they were?"

"I saw them, they were pointing at me, and laughing." He said through sobs.

"How did you know they were talking about you? Did you hear what they were saying?"

"Well…" Canada thought hard, and the more he did so, the more he realized the he was wrong. He never did hear anyone say anything about him. "no… I didn't…"

"You know that I wouldn't ever let anyone talk bad about you, right?"

"Of course," Canada said with a smile. "America?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you so much."

"Me too, little bro. Now come on, let's go inside and watch some hockey."

 **A/N: Sorry this was kind of random, but I had begun writing this in the middle of an anxiety attack and it just made me feel better by writing this. Hope you enjoyed reading this.**


End file.
